March 23, 2020
Pepe has sold flowers from his corner close to the San Miguel church as long as I’ve lived here. I had visitors coming for part of last weekend, and one was an older woman who likes roses, so I went to buy some to put in the house.
My guess is, he was offering unsold flowers from the day before, since he was pulling off dead outer petals when I found him. The government had finally asked people not to do unnecessary things, so no-one was going to visit grandma and show up with a bunch of flowers. He was almost surprised to have a customer, but relieved as well. His profit on a dozen roses is perhaps half what a waitress, for example, might make in a day. The town lives off visitors, and while we’re not in quarantine or a lockdown situation, people are starting to avoid a lot of things they’d normally do.
You’re probably wondering why I was allowing visitors at home, but this had been pre-agreed. One of the women, a close friend for many years, was having her birthday, and there was a small fiesta planned for here in the village. She and I had had, to borrow a phrase from the field of diplomacy, “a full and frank exchange of the issues,” but a scaled-down event was finally decided on. For the eight of us there, it was probably our last social get-together for weeks to come.
As it turned out, two of the other guests were heading back to Mexico City that night, and offered my friends a ride, which they accepted. Thus, I was home alone by 8:30 when the doorbell rang.
Now, this is Mexico. You don’t usually answer the door after dark, unless you recognise who’s knocking or ringing. I leaned out the window, and found it was some young people working for the national census, which is being held this month.
I went and answered their questions, and remarked to the senior of them that it was perhaps a little odd to be going door to door, talking to huge numbers of people, during a nascent epidemic. He shrugged and nodded slightly.
“We need these jobs, señor,” he said.
And that’s the problem here. Pepe probably has a tiny pension that would scarcely feed him, so in his seventies, he still sells flowers on a street corner. This town has maybe forty hotels and posadas, and a greater number of restaurants. Between them, they employ hundreds of people, maybe even a figure in the low thousands. They don’t have access to lines of credit, or cash advances on their credit cards. Many don’t even have credit cards.
This morning Lindsey, our local organic baker, moaned to me that he wanted to close, because all day he handles money and breathes other people’s breath. But he has someone who helps him, and minds the store while he’s making deliveries, and to lay him off would mean the man has no income. He doesn’t know how to tell his employee “Sorry, but you’ll have to starve for a few weeks, since this business is too small for me to continue paying you.”
And even the gangs are having a tough time. A lot of fake goods, plus the ingredients for the fentanyl they produce, come from China, and they’re running out of supplies. Viruses are very democratic in this way.
I’m reasonably philosophical about what could happen in the next few weeks. I’ve laid in some supplies, including extra dogfood. I’m currently alone in the house, so I’m appropriately isolated. My next door neighbour and I are looking out for each other, and a bunch of us expats have made ourselves available to each other if one or more get infected, and there’s a need to deliver food or water. Also, as a Canadian on a pension, my own income is guaranteed at a time when the peso has lost 20 per cent of its value against the loonie.
I also have a close family member who got the virus, but not seriously, so I’m hoping we have immune system abilities in common. He’s recovering okay after a week at home, though he can’t go outside for a while, as he might still be infectious.
But Mexico will be very hard hit as the economy starts to sink. GM and Volkswagen have closed their plants for now, and schools are also shut. People are holding it together for now, but they have either few options or none if they’re forced to stay home and not work. So while I’m not very worried about the disease, I’m seriously concerned about how this society will handle the next months, as recession sets in.